


Everything Seems To Sing

by Alicorn



Category: Fraggle Rock
Genre: F/M, Romance, Spiritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-12
Updated: 2010-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:05:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alicorn/pseuds/Alicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is surprised when Mokey, on the day of her 30th birthday, decides to join the minstrels to save Lanford's life. /On hold/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note:

Author's Note:

Finally, my next fic is ready to start!

This is the official prequel to my first very first fanfic Song Of A Midnight Place and is set about seven years before that story. This story tells the start of how I think Mokey might have finally became a minstrel, and her relationship with Cantus. There will not be as many original songs in this story as in Midnight Place, but for a good reason that actually plays into the plot. Again, this fic is somewhat dark in theme, but keeping fraggles (and other races of the rock) true to themselves, has some light as well . ( _This story is told in parts that each start with a line and doodles from Mokey's diary, the words of which I will also be typing for the sight and impaired. If you would like to see them the full doodled beginnings version of this fic will be at myfandoms (dot) com soon :)_ )

 _  
**Everything Seems To Sing**   
_

By Alicorn (aka Redsonga aka Alicornmoon )

 **Prologue**

The normally peaceful front room of the renowned tinker Jerome Crystal's workshop was blissfully noisy for four in the morning.

On any other day this would be more than a bit of an annoyance to his old grey and white sheepdog mutt Sprocket. But today, he happened to be making a good part of the ruckus as a barking mimic to his human.

"Now, fishing pole..fishing pole? Where did I put that rod? I tell you Sprocky, this is the trouble with never bothering to unpack these last two dozen boxes from the move, can't find a darn...Oh, thank you."

Sprocket wagged his tail from where he sat up, grasping an old fishing pole in his jaws and dropping it gingerly into Doc's hand.

The old man patted his head, adding the pole to the contents of three giant duffle bags that already looked as if they were ready to burst.

Sprocket barked haply going back to hunting for interesting things among the dusty boxes.

"It sure was a surprise wasn't it? That Matt Fraggle fellow saying he wanted you and I, and Ned to accompany him on one of those famous road trips his always writing Gobo about...right around the same time as our annual fishing trip to Michigan to..."

Doc eyed a large menacing looking wench in each hand and then shrugged, packing both.

"Of course, I can understand the need for a last hurrah before retirement. Company makes it easier most of all when you have a family to break the news to when you get home...All things considered he does seem to think of us as his closest human ..and dog friends..."

Sprocket hummed along in the background picking all sorts of dog toys and adding them to a bag, ending with a stuffed chew toy that looked mysteriously like a hand knitted fraggle before Doc noticed his progress.

"Oh no, we can't take all that Sprocket, we have travel light, that's the key you know...Now, did I put that portable generator?"

Sprocket whimpered as his collection was poured back onto the floor, scooping up the fraggle toy in a paw and quickly sandwiching it back into the bags messy contents when his human was looking the other way.

The picture Doc had picked up in that same moment was a framed black and white photograph of a group young faces, some of their hair laced with flowers, in front of a well loved looking Volkswagen.

"Oh I tell you Sprocky, this is going to be just little the good old days when my college friends and I took to the road..Living on nothing but our van and our dreams..the world seemed so big then..."

He tapped the image of a curly long haired man at the center of the picture holding a pair of scissors with a cheerful gaze.

Sprocket glanced over his shoulder feeling the top of Doc's balding head in shocked horror for a moment, before going back to packing as the old inventor continued to ramble on.

"...That was the summer I gave up a future as a rocket scientist to start my first barber shop...I wanted to do something useful, something real..."

"Row?" Sprocket growled in question, resurfacing from the layers of boxes on the workshop floor wearing a pair of green and pink lensed sunglasses and peace-signing over energetically , while holding Doc's pipe in his teeth.

"Where in the world did you find those old?..Give me that!" Doc grumbled in distaste, cleaning off the stem of his pipe and giving his dog a sidelong glance.

"Oh Sprocket, don't tell me you buy into all those stereotypes.."

"Rarrwo?" Sprocket interjected raising a suspecting bushy eyebrow as he haled up a worn and faded looking box that 's contents clicked and made foreboding other sounds under the covering of an oversized tie-dye shirt.

Doc's eyes went wide as he quickly took the box from his dog and whipped it out of sight in one swift movement that was surprisingly agile for a man of his age.

"Alright, I won't say we were _angels_ , but we all really felt like we were a part of _something_ ...headed for adventure..."

Doc's gaze glossed over again as he made a dramatic sweep of his arm toward an invisible horizon that the old sheepdog seemed to follow to, looking, dream like, off into the distance.

"What do you say to making _this_ summer a great adventure Sprocky, just for old times sake?" He said in a pleading tone, leaning down to the dog's level.

Sprocket put a paw to his mouth thoughtfully and then barked, nodding and panting as Doc reached to scratch him behind the ears.

"That's my groovy boy!"


	2. Why

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _**Dear Diary,** _

_  
**Dear Diary,**   
_

_  
**The songs don't seem to sing in the same way they did once...**   
_

* * *

A tuff of light blue hair at the tip of a long lilac tail whipped in a restless semi-circle in the darkness.

The living caves were all but silent in the early morning hours, filled was the peaceful snoring from fraggles of all shapes and sizes.

The distant notes of five more mellow sleeping sounds, all woven together like a melody, could even be heard above the rest, washing over the scene and leaving nothing but a drowsy sense of claim to every carefree mind of fraggledom…

That is, to every mind but Mokey Fraggle's.

She gave another deep sigh, flipping over to lay on her stomach and forcing her eyes closed.

With a grumble the tall fraggle reached with one jerky movement to tuck the blanket around her exposed feet and tail, before pulling the rest over her head like a knitted flower print cocoon.

A weak, concerned growl rose from the pot in the nook of the wall.

Mokey's pet night-blooming yellow-leaved deathwort, Lanford, awoken long ago by his owners tossing and turning, now carefully slid his pot to the edge of the shelf.

Giving his bottom warty flytrap like lip a last chew of concentration, the plant drew back tightly on his spring like stem, launching himself at small bed.

Mokey gasped at he sudden weight and shower of leaves on the exposed half of the pillow above her head, but then relaxed just as quickly when an inquisitive hand and eye revealed only the gentle razor teeth lined jaws of her pet.

"Grrgh.." Lanford purred, resting his head with a cozy yawn the top of her hair as Mokey began to absentmindedly pet his two main leaves.

"Red?" Mokey whispered out into the cave.

The two ginger pigtails visible above the edge of the worn looking hammock, surrounded by small hills of junk and nicknacks, did not stir.

"Red?"

"Mrgh…wa?" Came the faint, muffled reply.

"What do you think the meaning of life is? Why are we _here_?"

Mokey asked, her voice oddly clear and focused.

"Sleeep." Red growled in a zombie-ish tone, turning over and tunneling her head under her pillow like furry yellow worm.

Mokey laughed lightly at her friends unbridled enthusiasm.

"No, no, not why we are _here_ , why do we exist at _all_? What's the _point_?"

Red's now sightly more awoken voice leaked in a whining wave through the thin fabric of her hammock bottom.

"Moookeey..it's too _early_ for thoughtful..the point 'ill be there in… _morning_ …"

"Say…say you were older and storyteller wrote a song about you..what would you want it to say?" Mokey continued on, seeming to not hear her friends protests.

"Mokey, this doesn't have anything to do with your _birthday_ tomorrow..I mean, today, does it?" Red added with a sigh, still buried under said pillow. "… 'Cause it's too early for quarter-life crisises _to_ you know…"

"Aw come on Red… _your_ song, what would it be?" Mokey urged, breaking into a soft singing tone " **Listen well all fraggle kind to the tale of Red…** "

" **Who had enough of her crazy friend and went back to bed!** _ **Happy birthday**_ **!** " Red finished, curling up into an inpenetratable ball under her radish patched quilt.

"Say, that's pretty good!..At least it _does_ rhyme…Why if you put a few more metaphors and some meter..to…" Mokey stopped mid-thought, finally noticing her friends unconsciousness.

"Goodnight..." She whispered, softly slipping out of bed so as not to awaken Lanford and following her restless feet out into the early morning stillness.

* * *

The grass-lined valley surrounding the Grogs garden was draped in all the finery of a wild wheat field in mid-June.

The tall grass whipped in a slight breeze to the background melody from sleepy grasshoppers in the unsure hour between the night and the coming morning.

Though this scene, with only the golden grass and white downy heads of thistles, turned a bluest tint in the moonlight, as a guide , Mokey walked slowly to her favorite place in the world.

As she walked, feeling the cool dew brush against her bare feet, her progress awoke what looked like grumpy ladybugs.

Annoyed at the fraggles lack of noticing them, the group of bugs began to follow, thumping their tiny bodies against the ground to fill in the beats between the grasshoppers chirping.

Mokey fingered the soda tab on her necklace thoughtfully, watching its silver gilt catch the dim light as she began to sing softly.

 **Sometimes I'm alone, sitting on my very own**

 **Trying to find a simple kind of clue**

She spun slowly around in a circle , upsetting the ladybugs, who scattered to not be stepped on.

 **And I would like to know, why the world moves me so**

 **When it's only doing the things it will always do?**

Moths took flight in the background, dotting the sky line like tiny white winged shadows among the fainting stars.

 **Why do caterpillars crawl?**

 **Why is there a sky?**

 **Why is there a world at all?**

 **And why do I ask why?**

Mokey looked down sadly as one of the moths landed on her shoulder, tilting it's head as if listening carefully.

 **Here I go again, why do questions never end?**

 **What keeps calling all day long to me?**

She glanced to the side and smiled slightly, singing as the moth flexed it wings in the crisp air.

 **Secrets come and go, I know I can't be the only one...**

The moth flew off again, leaving the lone fraggle to sit down alone in a mossy sheltered spot.

 **Sometimes magic, sometimes only me...**

Mokey slowly raised her arm up toward the sky, now starting to become edged with the orange glow of morning.

 **Why do caterpillars crawl?**

She carefully rimmed the distant image of still bright crescent moon with her fingers...

 **Why is there a sky?**

 **Why is there a world at all?**

..and let her hand fall back to her lap with a sigh, bowing her head and closing her eyes in frustration.

 **And why... do I ask... why?**

"If you ask me, it sounds like you've got yourself a nasty case of The Whys there, young fraggle."

A heavy accented old lady's voice chimed in, to the background chorus of tin cans and rotten ten week old rutabagas rising from the surrounding earth.

Mokey turned sharply from the perch of her favorite place, that overlooked to one side the back of the fraggles famed oracles home. Two gray and pink mole rats still lay in their hammock beds between the two, dead to the world despite the noise around them.

"Madam Trash Heap! Oh, I'm sorry if my singing woke you.." Mokey said, her voice high and apologetic as she picked a dandelion.

"…A lot of good it did anyway..Oh, even my question song isn't helping today…"

Mokey blew on the white ball of fluff, sighing with a dreamy gaze as most of the seeds remained stubbornly in place.

"Oh no no, I was awake already. Advice is a twenty four hour thing you know." The Trash Heap said, wagging a finger. "You'd be surprised how much night business I get…

She raised her lensless glasses on their stick up to her eyes in the light of the sunrise to the east.

The golden cheery tint bathed both the giant heap and the twenty-two inch tall fraggle above it on the hillside, as the the bird calls and sleepy gorg yelling began to tell of an everyday morning.

"Now, as I was saying, it sounds like you have a bad case of The Whys."

"Is..is there a cure?" Mokey asked, scooting forward to sit on the edge of her spot.

"Of course there's a cure," The trash heap said with a huff." Would I still be gabbing away to you if there wasn't?"

"Well…" Mokey began, quickly biting her tongue as if to keep her thought at that moment from escaping.

"The cure for the whys is the simplest thing in the world:"

Marjory began, again getting out her patented wagging finger (Which happened today to be a piece of old cheese).

"You gotta' take a bite out of the big apple."

"Pardon?" The fraggle tilted her wild haired head, not seeing anything that remotely looked like an edible apple around the Trash Heap.

"Do! My little fraggle, do! You've been stepping back so much you're sittin' on the frame of the big picture!"

"But last time I did something like that, it didn't…" Mokey ended, her energy for words seeming to die halfway though.

"Then try again, find what works for you, don't just give up..."

The oracle rattled her contents, raising up on her magical base with a sound that seemed like it would wake up all creatures within a mile, but hardly bothered the nearby Philo and Gunge.

"...See new sights, meet new people: Find a new road and hit it good, honey!"

"Hmmm..Okay!" Mokey concluded at the infectious peppy tone of the wisdom giver

"Well, I'm really going to have to think about this though…" She added beginning to walk away back to the rock, and then suddenly turning to look back as if a thought had just hit.

"You know, Madam Heap..why is it none of my friends ever stop to just talk sometimes, like we do?"

"Well, not many creatures really get their kicks chatting with an oracle, you know…"

"But why?" Mokey asked.

"Because it tends to make an advice giver more real to their eyes …." The heap added with a nod.

"But why would that make any diffan…?"

"If we are real, it means we can make mistakes just like you." The heap cut in, glancing over her glasses.

"Oh, that's silly Madam Heap," Mokey replied with a light laugh.

"Why, I know you're not _perfect_ , I think of you as just a normal person …"

"Oh you do, do you?" Marjory said with a suddenly more piercing glance. "Then how is it after all these years you're still calling me "Madam Heap" when you know what my real name as well as Philo and Gungey?"

"I'm…I'm not sure…" Mokey clamored in embarrassment, suddenly very interested in the ground.

The Trash Heap broke the serious moment with a belly laugh that make the bottlecaps on her necklace clink.

"Oh that doesn't matter, listen to me rattling on, I can see just fine why more fraggles don't stop to really chat."

"T..thank you for your words Madam Heap." Mokey said, dipping her head a little as she turned to resume her track home.

"Don't mention it little fraggle, and remember: Do!"

The trash heap shouted over the groggy background grumbling that just now could be heard starting of one rattly demand for banana asparagus pancakes...


	3. What

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _**Dear Diary,** _

_  
**Dear Diary,**   
_

_  
**I should have known from that moment something was wrong...**   
_

* * *

"What's the matter, Mokey? Aren't you hungry?" Boober asked softly.

What had once been white and red swirled cake with green frosting and rainbow sprinkles had now become something closer to green pudding under the restless attack from her fork for the last half hour.

The cave that the five friends where now in was abuzz with activity from far more than the birthday party in one corner.

Moss Melon cavern, filled on every wall with the climbing vines of the magical melon that was only ripe once every hundred years, was now in it's center having wood for a bonfire slowly placed. The minstrels looked on to one side, softly playing a tune that made even the work part of the Midsummer Festival seem like play.

"Is there something wrong with your cake?" Boober looked down at the offending cake piece as if it had deeply betrayed him. "I made it especially ...but if you don't like it I could always…"

Red suddenly skipped around their stone table, her mouth covered with white and red crumbs and one hand full of another sizable piece of cake, while the other hand carried many pieces of wood for the bonfire as she made three trips back and forth in the blink of an eye, talking at a mile a minute.

"How could anyone not like radish bar cake? It's as good swimming,..no better even! I'd lifemate it just to eat it again and again…!"

"Me to!" Wembley agreed, munching happily to the side of where Gobo sat, looking a bit sad at his lack of dessert.

"No..no, the cake is just wonderful Boober…" Mokey gave him a little reassuring hug as the small green fraggle sat in his usual spot to her left, rubbing a free edge of her sweater.

"…It's just, I've been thinking…Gobo, maybe you know.."

Gobo turned his attention quickly from where he had just been about to take his chances with a tiny bit of radish bar icing on a spoon.

"Have you ever felt like there was something you had to right away, something _important_ , but you didn't know what?"

"Why sure, lots of times.." Gobo replied, nodding his pink haired head, which today happened to be wearing a red yellow and green striped beanie from his hat collection.

"The _first_ time though was when I first decided to be an explorer…"

"Gosh, do you want to be an explorer Mokey? Do ya? " Wembley asked, sitting down with a burst of energy on Mokey's lap, his voiced edged with the first signs of his own sugar rush.

Mokey laughed at his face, which was now not only his normal light green but dark forest green from the frosting around his mouth, making the young fraggle look like a green clown.

"Well..I don't know…Oh Wembley, Wembley, what a mess you are!"

"Is exploring better than radish cake with sprinkles Gobo?" Wembley asked as his his face was being assaulted by the clean corner of one of Mokey's many watercoloring rags.

"Of course it's better than radish bar cake, I'm allergic remember?" Gobo retorted with a sad sigh, finally thinking the better of it and being down the frosting spoon.

"At least you've got things better than Marlon." Red interjected as she paused momently from zipping everywhere "He can't have sugar _at all_. I think that's how his eye got all swinty... it just isn't _normal_ …"

"Don't be silly everyone, Mokey's not the sort to just _fling_ herself headlong without thinking into something as dangerous as _exploring_!"

Boober declared, bumping Wembley to the side and giving Mokey an unseen look of complete confidence before returning to his ranting tone.

"…Mokey is an _intellectual_ rock dweller like me! What she needs something safe, something constructive, something that supports…"

"Ideals…" Mokey mumbled, picking at her cake again.

"Right!" Boober agreed.

"Spiritually…" Mokey added, giving her cake a hard stab.

"You tell 'em Mokey!"

"Drastic action!" Mokey finished dramatically, standing up in one sharp moment of insight that sent both her cake plate and Boober tumbling to the cave floor.

"Righ..Um, couldn't we just start at acquiescent action and work our way up?" Boober asked in a small, muffled voice from where he had landed squarely on his nose.

It's so simple Boober!" Mokey said cheerfully helping him up. "All I need is a cause, something _real_. But what?"

"What about being a minstrel?" Wembley said, his voice wavering a bit at the weight of the whole group looking at him. "Don't they have all those things? At least, maybe they do?"

"Oh, no no, I _couldn't_.. you remember what Cantus said last time.."

Mokey spoke at a near whisper, casually glancing to where the minstrels were already starting to gather a crowd of nearly all the fraggles in the lower rock.

"…I'm not good enough…"

Her friends did not seem to notice when her own gaze caught the edge of the minstrel leaders' own and she looked downward quickly.

"Well… _we're_ real, you know." Gobo added, gently patting her arm.

"And since we're real," Red began halfway dragging Mokey by the hand back toward the group, where she quickly jumped on the tabletop .

"…I've got something _really_ real as a birthday gift. I know your annual poetry reading isn't until tonight but: I wrote a poem!"

"Oh, how nice of you Red!" Mokey said in surprise.

" _You_ wrote a poem?" Gobo asked with a grin.

"You can _write_?" Boober added in complete shock.

"Of course I can _write_ , I'm not stupid you know." Red retorted, sifting her weight and scratching the back of her ankle with a toe. "Ah hem, it's called" _My friend Mokey_ "

Mokey, Gobo, and Wembley leaded in intently to listen as Boober sneaked around the other side, reading over Red's shoulder.

 **"**   
_  
**Every day a half past three, It's my friend Mokey and me.**   
_

_  
**Though she's not that good with sports, she can grow flowers, tall and shorts.**   
_

_  
**And at lunchtime when the sun is high, she likes to paint pictures of the sky…**   
_   
**"**

"You can't use shorts that way you know…" Boober butted in, jabbing a finger at the paper.

"Quiet you…" Red whispered, whipping the paper the other direction only to find Boober there to, this time armed with a bottle of ink and a quill pen he had produced from under his hat.

"…and you misspelled _three_..and _though_ …and this and this and a comma splice _here_ …"

Boober continued, his writing hand moving steadily over the span of the scroll Red was holding.

In the end of this onslaught Red stood in shock, holding her poem which was now dripping with red ink.

"You..you _killed_..it…"

She whimpered softly her voice ending with a high crack as she hid her suddenly wet looking eyes from view, jumping of the table and running off into the living caves like a shot.

" _Boober_!" His three remaining friends chorused with a glare.

"What?" Boober asked, shirking from view. "I was just giving some _constructive_ criticism.."

He sighed, the glares showing no sign of getting weaker.

"All right, all right, I'll say I'm sorry…" Boober grumbled, kicking a stone as he followed Red's taken path.

"Gosh, you're so lucky to be getting all these gifts and things to pass on Mokey…"

Wembley said, polishing the mask made of sloppily glued together doozer sticks he had given Mokey earlier to make the crystallite pieces catch the glow of the just starting bonfire.

"Yeah, being born on Midsummer Day I'm surprised you don't just have a lifetime supply of wishstones."

Gobo added, tossing what looked like a small red bead up and catching it with a thoughtful look.

"I think I'll ask the fire for good luck for Uncle Matt this year…"

"Well, I almost have one for each year…"

Mokey nodded, looking down at the the many beads that made up most of her necklace, her voice taking on an oddly formal tone.

"Mother was not much for birthday parties.."

"No way Mokey, your mom _didn't like_ parties? "

Gobo said, nearly choking on the rhubarb juice he had started to drink.

"Why didn't you tell us? We could have given you twice as many!"

"You never asked… Mother didn't like many things.."

Mokey said, looking toward the crowd around the central fire again as the notes of the well known magic pipe began the grow.

"…she hated daydreaming most of all you know…"

"No, we don't know!" Wembley said, eyes a bit wider than usual as he tried to tuck the remaining piece of the cake into his banana tree shirt without anyone noticing.

"You sure we're talking about _your_ mom Mokey?" Gobo asked with a laugh.

"Oh yes, but of course…" Mokey said in the same odd tone with her own laugh.

"On the other hand," Gobo said, looking hard at his wishstone. "I _do_ remember you saying once your family was well-to-do…"

"What's 'well to do' Gobo?" Wembley asked, taking his own yellow stone out of his shirt to make more room for forgotten cake.

"It's what fraggles become who don't like to pass it on." Gobo explained in a serious whisper.

"Fraggles that _don't_ like to pass it on? You're pulling my tail!" Wembley replied in shock.

"Really! And they sit around with all their stuff…"

Gobo said, sitting back and putting his feet up on the table with such an over the top sophisticated bored expression Mokey could not help but giggle.

"… saying " _Well, what's to do today eh?_ "

" 'Well, what's to do?' That doesn't sound very fun.."

Wembley quickly looked over at Mokey, his eyes cast a bit downward as he fidgeted in place.

"At least, I've never _tried_ it Mokey, so I don't really know…"

"It's not fun Wembley, trust me…" Mokey said with a laugh.

"Let the Midsummer Day wishes be made to fire!" Came the even spoken announcement of Cantus to the crowd of fraggles around the central fire, who cheered and whistled before quickly claiming down as Gobo joined them.

In the background the song of Midsummer Day began as the fraggles of the lower rock joined hands around the blazing bonfire.

The notes of melody were shared with Mokey's own song as the two weaved together, the summer song providing a steady beat to the more lighthearted 2nd song:

 _Fire, fire…_

Mokey grabbed Wembley's hand with a well bred air, her voice a very practiced heavy impersonation of her mother.

 **If you want to be a lady of**   
_  
**quality**   
_   
**, here's what I know to do:**

 _Fire, fire…_

Mokey dipped down, curtsying deeply.

 **Don't dilly and dally and**   
_  
**daydream**   
_   
**,**

 _Burning bright!_

Wembley bowed in reply, but went too low and fell down, semi-gracefully, on his nose.

 **Least**   
_  
**others**   
_   
**think less of you!**

 _Bring us tomorrow with your light!_

Mokey placed an invisible violin under her chin, taking out an imaginary bow and air playing the notes of the song, whispering the words "five years of lessons" to the small green fraggle.

 **If you want to make us proud,**

 _Dream, hope..._

Wembley tried to join in, playing what looked like an imaginary tuba and hitting a pretend sour note that made so nearby cave creatures wince and glare.

 **Keep both feet upon the**   
_  
**ground**   
_   
**!**

 _...and promise we..._

Mokey, grabbed Wembley's hand again, leading him over toward the cerebration with a well practiced graceful walk and her nose in the air.

 **Because a fraggle's not all the**   
_  
**fraggle**   
_   
**they can be, unless**

Wembley mimicked her exactly, but had his nose so far in the air that he lost track of his feet and nearly fell down again, this time saved by Mokey's arm.

 **..they are soaking their toes in reality!**

All this time the circle around the fire had reformed itself into a line and the fraggles were now taking turns jumping over it, tossing their wishstone into it halfway over.

 _Jump across the flames to see_

Gobo's turn came and he backed up quickly, shutting his eyes and taking such a high spirited leap over the fire that many fraggles ooed and clapped.

Mokey's voice was small and thoughtful and back to her own voice as she sang the ending of her song, now only to herself, watching the flames lick an unlucky fraggle tail or two.

 **Be sweet, be gentle Mokey dear, be anything you please,**

 _Fire fire that you hear our sound!_

Mokey looked down at her wishstone, tighting her grip upon it slowly.

 **But don't let your mind wander to play all day, in imaginary trees...**

She backed up a few steps as her turn finally came and…

 _The midsummer song of sky and ground..._

" _Mokey, Mokey_!" The never failing to get attention sound of Red's voice in an emergency stopped both Mokey's focus on jumping, and the words of the summer song.

"Excuse me." Mokey said sheepishly, following her friend away from the group as Gobo and Wembley came to. "What's is it Red? What's _wrong_?"

"It's Lanford!" Red yelled. "I..well, I went back to our cave feeling bad and Boober came in to say _sorry_ and..I found him still on your.. _pillow_."

She ended her exclamation with a tearful tone, parting the way for Boober, who was groaning under the venus flytrap like plants' pot.

"He may be _heavy_ …but..he doesn't _look_ very..good." He whispered.

Mokey gasped, rushing to the shadowed pot atop Boober's head, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"…Lanford.. _no_ …"


	4. Who

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **_Dear Diary,_ **

**  
_Dear Diary,_   
**

**  
_He looked at me, but I was not sure if he truly saw..._   
**

* * *

Another black leaf fell.

The now nearly deserted cave was filled with five anxious sets of eyes all fixed upon a large pot.

The plant within it, a normally lively venus flytrap like creature with large puffed jaws was anything but his normal self.

Lanford's usually light green color with forest green wart-like markings was now a dark chestnut brown, with spots an odd shade of wine purple, and his mouth flat and withered slightly inward.

As the fraggles around this strange pet watched, one of which now holding a bowl up to his bottom jaw, another of the flytraps' blacking lesser leafs joined the many others that littered the rocky floor.

"Oh…he _always_ eats his peat moss…" Mokey sighed, finally putting the brimming bowl next to where she was kneeling.

"Lanford..I know we haven't always been friends but…" Red edged closer, offering the plant one of her ponytails with a decided gulp.

"...if you get better, I..I promise I won't throw my swimming fins at you at night when you try to chew on my hair…"

Lanford seemed to consider this for only a moment before slowly turning his beak downward with the sighing sound of shallow breathing.

"Aw, but he _always_ growls when I even _mention_ head chewing.." Red grumbled.

Boober meanwhile was elbow deep in a large book that smelled of old paper and earthworms, on the floor before him. Wembley seemed to be trying to read it to, without much success.

"Oh, I wish I'd kept up on my plant pathology studies..What if whatever Lanford has _mutates_ and starts effecting fraggles?"

He licked the edge of his finger with vigor and turned another page.

"We could be all brown and _spotty_ with our arms all atrophied and falling off in _who knows_ how much much time…"

"Time… _what year is it_?" Mokey asked in a suddenly nervous tone.

"What year is it?" Gobo laughed. "That's a silly question, no fraggle in their right mind still keeps track of the year _names_ , when we have the seasons to…"

"It's June 24th of the eighty-ninth Weeba." Boober spoke up suddenly almost before Gobo had finished speaking.

" Eighty nine...sixty eight… _oh no_.." Mokey's eyes grew wide after her somewhat slow calculations on her fingers and then toes came to an end.

"'Oh no' what?" Gobo asked.

"Never ask what after an 'oh no' Gobo;" Boober butted in again, patting him on the shoulder wisely. "...it's never good…"

"I..got Lanford as a gift for my 9th birthday..that was _twenty-one_ years ago…" Mokey said in a far away tone, her eyes still wide.

"So? Why does that matter?" Red asked, resisting the urge to poke the poor plant in hopes of any sort of response.

"Lanford's kind, the Night-Bloomers…they have to be put in a special soil..."

She carefully picked up a handful of the soil in Lanford's pot and watched as it fell slowly, her last words weak.

"..within two months of becoming twenty-one years old..if they don't.. they _die_ …"

"Well, that's no problem Mokey, there's lots of soil around the rock..." Gobo said, zipping up beside her.

"... and the gorg's garden and…" Red began, suddenly at the other side.

Mokey shook her head drying her eyes, only to have them fill a moment later.

"No, it can't be just _any_ soil..it has to be the soil were he was first planted in to have the right nutrients..everyone…I, I have to go back to Lanford's planting place.. _soon_ , very soon..starting tomorrow if I can..I have to make this _right_ …"

"We'll go with you!" Gobo exclaimed.

"Yeah, you never know when a best friend or two will come in handy, it'll be fun!" Red agreed.

"Me three!" Wembley shouted with a hop.

"I'll come." Came a flat but certain voice.

Everyone but Mokey turned toward the small form of Boober in shocked surprise.

Where Mokey would have normally laughed at her friends more than eager energy there was nothing but a serious pause.

"Oh…everyone..it's too far..even for _you_ Gobo... it's so far from lower rock that you could get lost forever if you aren't use to traveling there.." Mokey said quietly.

"There's _more_ of the rock than here?" Wembley asked.

Boober let out a dry laugh from where he now sat next to Mokey in his usual spot, getting several of the good luck knots he always had in his tail untied absentmindedly in their normal distressing ritual .

"Don't you know anything Wembley? The rock runs under most of the land of silly creatures, remember Northern Rock?"

"Oh yeah, sorry Boober, I forgot…I forget sad things easy I guess..." Wembley sighed.

Mokey worked steadily on a nasty knot in Boober's tail, looking almost afraid to look her friends in the eye as weighted words finally found their way out.

"My clan… we were always drifters when I was little going days without food, water..I don't want to have another friend _hurt_ because of me…"

None of the others seemed to notice when she gave Boober's tail a slight squeeze.

"Besides, don't worry..if I'm going to be able to go.. I can't go alone..it's too dangerous..I need someone experienced, someone like…"

"Uncle Matt?" Gobo said, pulling the newest postcard he had gotten from under his hat in a well practiced swoop. "But he's all the way on the other side of the silly creature world right now I bet…"

"No, no..even better…I only hope…" Mokey's voice trailed off to an uncertain whisper.

* * *

She couldn't read his eyes.

Somehow, this very small detail had left Mokey nearly unable to speak full thoughts.

For the last ten minutes the fraggle known for being the most expressive of all of her friends looked nearly frozen, carrying on a one sided conversation worthy of Wembley on a bad day.

"So…if it's not too much trouble, I'll even take the oath..I wouldn't be any trouble, if you want to call for it.."

The line of Cantus' gaze, penetrating and steady over his long yellowest orange muzzle, never changed in it's silent regard of her shaky words.

"If you wish it to be called for." He finally spoke in a tone just as hard to place as his eyes.

Mokey put her hand on her heart, speaking the solemn fraggle oath quickly and energetically.

"Weeba weeba, woppa woppa, garpox gumbidge, whoopee!" She smiled hopefully at Cantus. "See? And I can help on the road to, really I…"

Unlike Cantus, the four other members of his troop were clearly a bit taken aback and curious about the young fraggles sudden interest in them again, whispering a bit to each other though this whole time. The two most talkative, a slim, furry cat like creature, and a short wispy haired fraggle wearing glasses, seemed to come to a decision, finally speaking up.

"We've got no beef with having you along…"Murray began, giving Mokey an easy going smile.

"But, it would be nice to know where in the west you would like to go." Brio finished quietly, arranging her glasses over her unseen eyes with an almost nervous look.

"Oh I did'nt say? How silly..um, It's a place called Bluerock Night Gardens."

" _Bluerock_?" The booming throaty voice of the green loin like beast minstrel called Brool broke in.

"Oh yes, I've heard it's a beautiful place and I really need to get there as soon as possible…"

Mokey began un-rolling a very old looking map tied with a red ribbon.

"I would go alone but I know the path is..and if you happen to be _going_..that is if it's not _too much_ trouble…"

"We have been there before and we will be again soon." Cantus replied simply.

"But _Bluerock_ , Boss isn't that where…" Marray began near one of Cantus' dark pink hair toped ear tuffs as if to remind him of something, looking to the map.

"It is where there is a need to be…" The mystical fraggle spoke, turning to look at the smaller creatures' worried face. "…and so shall we be."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" Mokey squealed, catching herself short of her spontaneous need to hug the minstrel leader in thanks and looking at her feet.

"Um, I mean, I will be ready at dawn, sooner if I can be!"

She ran off quickly, leaving the group of musicians to stare after her, Marray shaking his head and chuckling softly.


	5. Would

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **_Dear Diary,_ **

**  
_Dear Diary,_   
**

**  
_As many times as I have left before, the look in their eyes..._   
**

* * *

The small living cave had been full of nothing but the quick unheard paths of a brush upon paper for many hours, traveling far into the night.

Mokey sat cross-legged on her bed with Lanford's pot resting nearby as her hand traveled over the width of the dozen papers pined to wall, filling in an imaginary sky with shades of blue and purple.

Mokey's friends, as long ago as her painting had began, had left her to think about her serious decision, as was fraggle custom with anything serious. Part of that custom, everyone knew, was the great hope that a fraggle might change their mind at the last moment...

But to Mokey, somehow, every layer of paint seemed to strengthen her resolve.

"But..still…that still doesn't look quite right does it?" She asked her pet plant gently.

"Rr?" Lanford replied, opening his mouth with the edge of a cough.

" You're right, it does need clouds! How could we forget clouds?"

Mokey mixed more water into the palette of countless hues, adding wisps of cloud like light pieces of lace over dry patches of sky.

"Do you remember Lanford? Do you remember the wind?"

The flytrap sighed, giving his shrunken head a low dipping shake.

"Oh of course you do…I know _I_ do…"

The smallest of melodies, like a chain of tiny bells, filled the cave as she painted steadily, Lanford's weak gaze following the brushes movements.

 **Hello world…**

 **I miss you every day…**

The paintings landscape began from the left with a curricular stone framed section of the lower rock, where Gobo and the rest swam happily in the fraggle pond and branched off from there to dark gray limestone curtains.

The darkness that came afterward was alive with paint eyes, bloodshot and hungary, and farther still, the banks of what looked like a wide river.

As the path went on, the rock walls and ceiling to one side opened, letting in the view of the sky.

 **I remember your sun as you called me out to play…**

 **Do you still have your mountains?**

Mokey painted over the orb for the sun again, giving it a finely detailed swirl the glowed down upon small weaved huts at the base of what looked like trees, but were so large that the roots themselves drew out of the earth like branches.

 **And your stars in an endless sky?**

 **Have your trees grown taller?**

With a sweep of golden brown, the light outline of a rope bridge over a deep canyon was shaded the light of the sun, before leading off into the side of a valley, dotted with wildflowers and small fraggle holes carved into the outside of the rock.

 **Have your fish learned how to fly?**

The picture of this final place on the collage of water and berry juices was painted in the darkened appearance of night, the ground full of odd looking ground ivy and plants of all sorts, many covered in thorns.

 **You know world… how I miss you everyday…**

Lanford looked up with a weak breath, his unseen eyes fixed on the last part of the painting, as his once large mouth came to rest on the outline of something within the brambles with a warm purr.

 **But why must you always take my friends away?**

 **World, say you'll stay... but please, don't take my friends away…**

The sound of a cup of water and a paint brush falling with a ring of wood upon stone was the last sound the ditsies soaked up for the night in the small cave, their flame like magic making the finished picture almost dance in light

* * *

Somehow, this time didn't feel like a time for musical goodbyes.

The three years that had been in a short time carried away by endless games and laughter between the first time Mokey had attempted to join the minstrels company and this one mirrored the other in unhappy reflection...

Wembley's voice sounded painfully young as he stepped forward.

"Goodbye Mokey..you will be back _soon_ like last time won't you?"

Mokey tried her best to smile, shifting the weight of Lanford's pot where it was tied with heavy lengths of rope to the bundle on her back.

"Well, not as quickly as last time..but I'll be back as soon as I can…"

Wembley hugged the closest length of her hooded traveling cloak that was near his level, looking upward with wide eyes.

"Is it really dangerous?"

Mokey bent down to kiss the his forehead with a reassuring tone that was nearly a whisper as she looked up at the rest of the group that had gathered.

"Wembley, don't worry so much..all of you, please don't worry."

Gobo cleared his throat, stepping forward and running his free hand though his mess of bright pink hair as he reached for something within his backpack with the other.

"Mokey…I know you said you didn't need my _help_ but.." His cheeks turned a slightly darker shade of orange. "…well, a little bit of _luck_ never hurt the great explorers."

The hat , looking roughly handmade, was a tight fitting cap of small polished flat white rocks weaved together in a net pattern of silver colored twine. The pieces made a loud clear clicking sound against one another as Mokey took it from Gobo's hand in awe, kissing him smartly on the cheek.

"Oh, thank you Gobo it's beautiful. I'll keep it with me always…"

There was an uneasy silence as Red stepped forward next, a moment before both hugged each other in tears. This moment pasted much quicker than the others, as Red managed to speak up in a crying voice.

"Mokey..you not going to _write_ are you?"

"No, I'll draw everyday…" Mokey replied, just as shaken.

"You won't draw on.. _postcards_ … will you?"

Mokey laughed.

"No, no postcards..and Red?"

"What?"

"Every few days.." The tall lilac fraggle spoke quietly. "…could you clean up a _tiny_ corner of your room? Maybe..just a _little_ , for me?"

Red bit down on the edge of her mouth fixing her best friend with a pretend glare before rolling her eyes and hugging her again.

"I'll _try_. I'm going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you to…and _Lanford_ will…Do you want to say goodbye?"

Mokey turned bringing Lanfords' suspended pot just level with the short yellow fraggle so they met face to unmoving shrunken jaw.

Red paused before reaching out to rub the smallest of the plants topmost wartlike spots.

"Get well soon... you big-toothed dummy."

All this time the smallest fraggle form of them all had been slowly edging its way toward Mokey switching its path whenever she chanced to glance its way.

Now that shadow finally stopped, taking a deep breath.

"M…Mokey?"

"Boober…" Mokey said with a smile as the small green fraggle appeared from his shadowed spot, hands clasped behind his back.

"M..Mokey..c..could I _talk_ t..to..you for a moment?" His feathery bright red hair shadowed an unseen downward glance. "I need t..to _ask_..you..a..alone…"

"Of course Boober… What is it?" Mokey asked looking truly puzzled and worried as she ducked quickly into a nearby small adjoining nook of a cavern, followed slowly by Boober.

The white lily with pink spots he held behind his back dipped into clear view in a flash of color as the three remaining fraggles were left alone.

"Why's he holding that flower Gobo?" Wembley asked.

Their groups unofficial leader replied with a shrug.

Five minutes turned into ten, and then fifteen, as the three waited outside the nook, Wembley quite contended hoping up and down

trying to perfect the perfect jumping pickle balance with a pebble, while Gobo sat, every now moving to a different position, ending up siting upside down over a large rock.

Red meanwhile was doing her best to spy.

Having found, much to her disappointment, that both fraggles had retreated too far into the small space to see, she now stood with part of a doozer construction pressed up against the wall like a makeshift cup.

"Hear anything?" Gobo asked.

Red shook the free side of her head in a no.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Wembley added as the stone fell from his moving nose for the fifty-third time.

Red shook the piece of doozer construction in frustration as if trying to get better reception before pressing in against the wall once more.

"Knowing Boober it's probably a heart to heart lecture about staying away from _germy_ moss and bad luck _rock cracks_."

Wembley came over as Red continued to fume, pressing his own head against the rock as a silent mimic.

"Oo, if I had my _detective_ gear this case would be solved alread..ee!"

Red's scheming was stopped halfway as the whirlwind that was Mokey in a hurry rushed out of the cave suddenly, sending both snooping fraggles tumbling over in a surprised heap.

The small smile on Mokey's face was matched clearly by a tone that just moments ago had been laughter, the white pink-spotted lily now grasped within the careful jaws of Lanford on her back.

"..don't want me to leave, but Lanford, he _needs_ me. You understand don't you?" Mokey asked without turning around.

"O..of course.." Boober answered, his voice strained toward happiness as he followed her out slowly.

"…and I'll be back soon, I promise!"

The small green fraggles face seemed to force itself into a smile in sync with Mokey turning around to bend down to hug and kiss him on the forehead once more.

As her attention and feet were drawn to the shadows of the minstrels against the light of just awaking ditsies,

the small red haired fraggle pulled away from Wembley's comforting hand on his shoulder heading to a shadowy spot in the opposite direction.

"He's.. _crying_ …" Wembley gasped in shock.

"Boober might get upset easy, but he hardly ever _cries_."

Red nodded sounding even a bit saddened herself over how odd the tearstains from his unseen eyes looked on a face that was normally grave, serious, or frightened in nearly every other way.

"What do you think he asked Gobo?" Wembley whispered, only daring to steal a glance at the odd scene.

"Who knows.."

"It must have been something really _really_ serious…" Red concluded, biting her lip.

" Maybe it's best if we forget about this for now guys…" Gobo decided in a serious tone. "…let Boober talk about it when he feels like it."

A set of pigtails and a mess of yellow nodded in agreement as they walked toward where Mokey now stood talking with the minstrels and exchanging bows some distance away.

"Well..I guess…this is it…" Mokey took in a deep breath letting the long sleeves of her traveling cloak raise and fall in a silent battle against tears as her friends last farewells and waves washed over her.

"Goodbye Mokey!"

"Goodbye Mokey, watch out for big rivers, eh ?"

"Bye Mokey! Draw me if you see any fun looking fraggle ponds!"

"I will! Goodbye everyone..goodbye… little Boober." Mokey waved, forcing herself to turn at the last moment and follow where the minstrels had already started walking away from lower rock.

A small dark green hand went up slowly in a wave from where it still sat with its owner in shadow too far away now to be seen or heard, even if the voice of the lone fraggle had spoken at anything over a tear worn whisper.

"Be… _safe_ …Mokey."


	6. With

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _**Dear Diary,** _

_  
**Dear Diary,**   
_

_  
**I had forgotten how hard traveling on the road is when you only...**   
_

* * *

Her feet hurt.

Her feet hurt, she was all alone.

Her feet hurt, she was alone, the flower was pretty.

She was alone…the flower was pretty.

The flower was pretty…

Mokey sighed as she turned the pink spotted lily stem over and over in her hands, lost in thought.

Had what Boober asked _really_ just been to keep her from leaving?

Mokey's thoughts were so far back in the cozy memories of her home in the lower rock for the last eighteen years, that she seemed to have all but forgotten the group walking single file in front of her.

Cantus walked before them all, his magic pipe held within easy playing distance.

The large form of Brool came next, so near to his leader that he seemed to be inches away from stepping on his cloak, stopping now and then to sniff the air.

Murray followed, doing his own check every few steps to grab hold of the hand or tail of Brio, who was looking back in concern at the tall lilac fraggle walking dead last.

Balsam, the only one not in line, had taken to his own path beside them, zipping from brush to stone with a quick cricket like clicking sound.

Brio sighed as she was dragged from the sight of the saddened Mokey again by Murray's almost annoyed pulling on her hand, and fixed him with an unseen look.

"Aw no, not _this_ again…" Murray said with his own sigh as music started all around, backed up by Balsam's, and the rest of the insects of the road to Wonder Mountain's, clicking.

Both Mokey and Cantus seemed to not notice the songs forlorn beat.

 **"If the mist is on the trail long, you will know where I have gone...**

 **You can hear the water flow... a hundred miles…"**

Murray reluctantly joined in with his guitar, to accompany Brio's slightly accented alto, as Brool's ears pricked.

 **"A hundred miles, a hundred miles, a hundred miles, a hundred miles…**

 **You can hear the water flow a hundred miles…"**

Brool sniffed, joining in with Brio and Murray as the whole line began to cross the invisible bridge, Balsam flying over the gap before them with his usually hidden grasshopper like wings.

 **" Oh moon, I am one, Moon I am two, Moon I am three, Moon I am four, Oh Moon…**

 **I am five hundred miles from my home…"**

Balsam landed on Brool's large back as they finished crossing, adding his bongo beat to the three's singing.

 **"Five hundred miles, five hundred miles, five hundred miles, five hundred miles,**

 **Oh Great Moon, I am five hundred miles from my home…"**

As they passed the hole that had once been the home of the feared Avalanche Monster and edged around a cavern of what looked like dancing cacti in the distance, low, sad notes from the magic pipe joined in.

 **" Not a shirt on my back, not a pebble to my name…**

 **Moon, I can not go home this way…**

 **This way, this way, this way, this way..**

 **Oh Moon, I can not go home this way…"**

Mokey finally looked up from her flower at Lanford's soft purr near her ear as the last lines of the song drifted away quietly.

 **"If the mist is on the trail long, you will know where I am gone…**

 **You can hear... the water flow…a hundred... miles…"**

Brio ended her song, burying her muzzle in back of Murray's coat and crying.

"Hey, hey, it's okay…" He whispered with a smile.

"My…" Mokey breathed in concern, the line going back to moving in itself normal music-less fashion...

Normal, except that Murray had fallen back to walk beside her, licking his hand and then grooming his ear in a matter of fact way as his voice went up to a just barely overhear-able whisper.

"I know you don't mean no harm by it Mokey, but if this _drag_ of a mood gets much bigger it'll start kick'n up so much dust we won't be able to see the road."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know…" Mokey said, rubbing her eyes as she started to put her flower from Boober away, only to have Murray stop her, grabbing the lily and handing it back.

"Don't feel sorry, it's okay, we just pick up things real easy on the down low." He said, winking.

"We are travelers of the spirit of the songs." Cantus' distant voice interjected, surprisely loudly for being so far away from earshot.

Murray rolled his eyes a bit in Mokey's direction with such a overblown flare that she couldn't help but laugh.

"There, see? Nice 'n easy. I wouldn't be bugging you to smile so quickly if it was just us 'n the boss, but Brio's 'traveler's spirit' is better at gettn' _homesick_ than most…"

"Homesick? I am not homesick…" The sound of Brio's low soft spoken voice to her left where the small fraggle had wandered back to walk with Marray without her noticing made Mokey hop in surprise . "How silly…"

"Aren't you now, Honey?" Marray said, the air alive with the unspoken weight of something in his voice Mokey could not quite understand.

"I am not..only..the water _did_ …" Brio trailed off, her tone betraying what might have been a dreamy look, if the area behind her glasses was not filled with the blankness of pale green skin.

"Oh ho, here we go again, the 'water of the Great Pond shining with the fire of coal' bit." Marray shouted with a sigh of exasperation.

"I think it sounds _pretty_." Brool's gentle boom echoed after Marray's remark so quickly, Mokey was almost certain of some sort of mind link between the whole group that would have spanned even greater distances.

Brio leaned toward Mokey waving her hands in slow dramatic motions on the surrounding cave walls, the faint accent she had heard before creeping back into her voice.

"The water of the Great Pond would shimmer so _clearly_ each midday... it would make the coal like living _fire_ of white and the pink Stinging Ones dance..the waves so tasting of salt."

"It sounds wonderful." Mokey breathed at the imaginary picture of endless surf.

"It _sounds_ fine," Marray butted in, his normally clam partly hidden tail twitching a little. " It's the underlining _beat_ those Wavggles lay down that isn't as nice as their home."

Brio glanced toward the ground a little as if weighted down by a quick reminder of an old shame, while Mokey looked on, puzzled.

"How could fraggles not be nice?"

"I am afraid my people were less that caring to Marray. Jail did not suit him."

"Your people had _jail_?" Mokey echoed in surprise, rolling the unfamiliar word over in her mouth like a spoonful of slimy okra soup. "But that's…that is, fraggles _never_.."

"Ah, pay it no mind, Lily." Marray said with a laugh, putting a hairy arm around her shoulder. "It all water under the sky, a song that's been played and all that…"

'Lily?' Mokey mouthed silently, before she was whisked away by the cat like performer who had taken to whispering in her ear, Lanford chewing weakly but protectively on the edge of the guitar case on his back.

"Anyway, it has come to my mind that the last time we were together, we were never introduced in the most understanding of introductions."

Mokey pulled slightly away from Marray to dislodge the chewing Lanford from the cat's back as politely as one could stop a carnivorous plant from devouring a instrument.

"But.. Cantus already told me your _names_ …"

"Ah yea, our boss may have started you off, but let me be your guide though the wonderful world of elaboration."

He bowed down deeply in a gentlemanly fashion where they had reached the front of the line, walking just behind the minstrel leader in step.

"I am Marray-Babok-Carbunkel-Snickerend-Macfur-The 3rd." He pointed upward toward the much taller Cantus with a serious nod.

" I'm head of keeping our fearless leaders' mind attached to something _rockside_ now and then."

"He does his job..well." Cantus said simply, giving the smaller creature a return nod of acknowledgment.

Mokey heard someone mummer something in a language she had never heard before behind them.

"That long title is only his stage name." Brio chimed in helpfully in conclusion.

Marray whipped around behind Brio, resting his furry chin on her head as she bit down on the edge of her muzzle ever so slightly.

"This sweet dear is Brio. She gets us where we're going."

Brio glanced upward at her traveling companion.

"I _draw_ the maps, the stars and rock moss, _they_ get us where we are going."

Marray flashed the glasses wearing fraggle a wide smile and made his way over to the next member of their band, spinning Mokey back to look at the large loin like beast with a whoop.

He patted the big creatures' oversized banjo at his side with a satisfying thumping sound.

"This big softie is my best buddy, Brool. He's in change of food and all the necessaries.."

Mokey felt an involuntary shiver run from her head to the tip of her tail as Brool leaned down to look her in the eye, a look that once upon a time, she was almost sure of it, meant this monsters' kind had made a dinner of dozen a fraggles at least once a week.

"You _eat_ much?" Brool asked, his deep echoing tone that grew from his teeth lined jaws not at all matching his light high singing voice.

"No…at least, I don't think I do…" Mokey peeped with a quick shake of her head.

"That's good…we don't _have_ much.." Brool added, his giant voice dying down into an sorrowful rumble.

"It's… okay," Mokey said, reaching out to give the big creature the best reassuring pat she could manage. " I'm sure I won't mind…"

"And last but not least we've got the little guy, Balsam .."

Marray pointed out into a seemly random shadow along the cave wall as it gave a loud click at the sound of the name.

"Doesn't talk much, sings more. He's our scout."

The small shadow darted here and there before drawing near again to their traveling line.

"Scout? What does he.. scout for?" Mokey rubbed her eyes after trying to follow the small musicians path.

"Anything that we do not wish to become acquainted with at the present time."

Cantus answered as Balsam landed on his back for a moment, making a faint whirring sound of agreement before flying off again to hop among the rocks.

"…And where we're going that's an awfully long list." Marray finished.

"O..oh…Is it really?" Mokey asked, mostly to herself, the reality of her undertaking just now beginning to leak over the edges of her early loneliness as she rubbed one of Lanford's remaining leafs for comfort.


End file.
